Day 14 - Omak, Washington to Oliver, British Columbia - 56 Miles

Well, we certainly thought when we started out from Carson City that the further north we drove, the cooler it would eventually become. In anticipation, we brought all manner of winter-ish hats, coats, and gloves. But au contraire, mon ami! It seems that the warm temperatures have been following us north. Good thing we're not headed for Alaska, or we'd probably bring about the premature melting of the Alaskan tundra.

So how warm is it, you say? Well, the temperature appears to be just over ninety, both inside the rig and outside in one of the lockers where I keep a sensor. So far we've been toughing it out, and have not cranked up the air conditioner. But this afternoon, after we had quietly slipped over the border into British Columbia, presented our passports, and traveled just a few miles north, we realized that we were NOT going to be encountering Alaska-like temperatures anytime soon. It might be Canada, but it felt like Las Vegas.

Nevertheless, once we had located a camp just three miles off our intended route north, we motored over there, got set up and, once done, we grabbed the camera and wandered off to explore our environment. We're camped close to Tucelnuit Lake, well, close enough to walk to it, and the camp does enjoy some cool breezes because of the spring-fed lake water. Sitting lakeside watching the sun begin to set was great.

But once we hiked back to our camp on the outer fringe of the grounds where they keep the "one-night-only" guests, and we were no longer enjoying those lake breezes, we decided that tonight was the night to crank up the air conditioner. We tried to conserve energy, but if Canada refuses to live up to our expectations and be fricking cold, well it's just their fault.

Once again you're no doubt wondering how we can travel a measly 56 miles in one entire day. Well, this morning we did get out of camp at a decently early hour, but we had to backtrack the six miles to the nearest town to take care of some essentials: first, the propane was down to a quarter tank so we had to get a refill; second, the rig needed an infusion of gasoline, and third, we had to drop by the ubiquitous Wally World to stock up on groceries.

By the time those chores were accomplished, it was past ten in the morning before we were ready to roll on northward. For the balance of the morning we traveled highway 97, eventually crossing into Canada. Next, we stopped by the visitors center in the first town we came to, one improbably named, "Osoyoos," before scouting out a place for lunch.

While in the process of getting the rig positioned off the side of a rural route west of downtown Osoyoos, I happened to notice a very large tan building with the words, "Desert Model Railroad" inscribed thereon. Figuring that any such activity would probably only be staffed on weekends, I dismissed it as a potential activity for the afternoon.

But once lunch was finished, I decided to at least drive by the big tan building to check for any signs of life. This we did as it lay just across the highway from where we had eaten. Much to our surprise, though there was only one car in the parking lot, the model railroad appeared to be open for business. Since I had been looking for some sort of activity all day that I might write about in the blog, I went ahead and parked outside.

I suspected that Concetta was not going to be entirely gung ho on the idea of model railroads, but hey, we hadn't stopped at any attractions all day, and this one was a bird in the hand.

Much to our surprise the whole appearance from the moment we entered the building was one of extreme professionalism and attention to detail. You initially enter a gift shop where you purchase your tickets, and the shop was excellently laid out and appointed. But once you have paid, you ascend a flight of stairs and enter a world that you would NEVER have been able to imagine in a million years. And that's before we learned that only FOUR individuals, two men and two women, performed ALL the work on the giant indoor railroad.

I had never seen such a feat of modeling in my entire life. The room, which probably measured forty feet by eighty feet, was absolutely jammed with spectacularly crafted models, both animated and non-animated. All the models were behind glass, but the glass was kept scrupulously clean, and it did not provide the slightest impediment to viewing the trains and miniature city-scapes, rail-lines, and upwards of 16,000 individually-painted figures.

We were totally entranced by the miniature world before us. Computer-operated trains chugged away in two dozen different places on the huge layout. Here and there, light rail cars dashed through center cities, mining operations took place underground, and other animated scenes like circuses and emergency rescues, all operated autonomously as if by magic.

I didn't expect Concetta to become so immersed in the miniature world, but when I looked over she was busily filming the activities with her Iphone. At one point the computer called for nighttime lighting, and slowly the illumination in the room fell off until only the various street lamps, train headlights, and building window lights illuminated the scenes.

And here's the incredible part: the whole model empire is built entirely with German Marklin trains and other non USA components. Their brochure proclaims that the layout is North America's largest Marklin (German) train layout. I know I've NEVER seen a larger one anywhere, and all of the streetscapes, woodlands, and mountains look remarkably European! Absolutely amazing!

After visiting the fantastic model railroad, and we were again headed north on Route 97, I decided that I just had to find a spot on a hill somewhere and get a shot of the beautiful agricultural lands that had been passing by our windows for miles. So as we approached some tiny rural lane headed toward just such a hill, I flipped a right turn and went adventuring. The lane was pretty narrow, and we weren't real sure we'd have room to turn around once we got to the top, but we forged ahead anyway. Thankfully, once we'd gone as far as we could go, and had to turn back, I was able to reverse the rig into someone's side yard and head back the way we'd come. And that's how we got some nice shots of the valley and all its greenery.

After that, it was getting on toward cocktail hour, so when we'd gone just a few more miles and we came across a road sign that promised a nice camp just three miles off the highway, we took the chance and made the turn. As it happens, our spot is a tad too close to the noisy local thoroughfare for our tastes, but I imagine it will quiet down toward nightfall. Other than that, the camp is terrific, the setting beautiful, and the price reasonable. The owner here, a chap named Gary, is a one-time owner of a huge camp located on Vancouver Island that sported 180 spaces. Thinking he wanted to retire, he sold it, but then realized that he was bored. So he bought this charming little place beside Lake Tucelnuit that has only about fifty spaces. Now he's happily staying more active. Perhaps his experience is a good one to keep in mind for all of us. Relaxation is great, but never try to make it your sole goal in life.

And with that bit of worldly advice, I will sign off and go turn off the darn air conditioner. It's just getting too cold in here now. And when YOU go looking for cooler -- or hotter -- temperatures in your quest for adventure, we wish you exciting destinations and memorable travels from the Davises, the Happy Wanderers.